


Cleaning Out the Closet

by twitch



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dog Play, Force Visions, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Spoilers, Non-Consensual, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Secondary Pairing - Freeform, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitch/pseuds/twitch
Summary: When Kylo cleans out the former Supreme Leader's quarters he finds a few items he doesn't expect to find. He and Hux know that Snoke didn't have any interest in animals.





	Cleaning Out the Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Snoke got what was coming for him. And words that he spoke inspired me in ways that I didn't expect.

In the wreckage of the _Supremacy_ , a rip in the darkness of space, fire chilled by space and time, it was left to his decision whether to re-construct. Despite being cleaved in two it remained the ultimate symbol of the First Order. Now his flagship.

In two it represented a broken piece. An Order fragmented. Two figureheads at odds. The Finalizer knew all too well of the battles of will between Lord and General.

Whole it was a unified front. Two men working together to bring the Resistance to a paltry number, survivors on the run. To wipe them out entirely.

Fury continued to simmer under the surface. Cloaking shields hid the Millennium Falcon from their tracking systems and Leia was closed off from the Force, a calm she enforced over herself and the others. His connection to Rey was unreachable, perhaps by the girl herself. Perhaps severed with Snoke’s death. Whichever was the case he was idling along with his ship. Pursuit was detained, even though he instructed all other First Order fleet, star destroyers and otherwise, to keep an eye and ear out for the Resistance.

Girders and transparasteel temporarily made the destroyer whole. While most star destroyers were built or reconstructed on their bases the sheer size of the Supremacy made it impossible to find a large enough working centre. Transporting the halves was the other challenge, the distance to bases and the lack of ships strong enough to transport working against them. Their only option was to send out multiple construction crews to re-build, at least two crews working each shift. The longer they were left immobile made them a target that the Resistance, or the remnants of the New Republic, would take advantage of.

From what he heard General Hux ensured that the Supremacy crew was working to divert their communication signals and energy away, making it look like they were not in their last location. Oversaw the reconstruction and ordered new supplies when construction demanded it. On his part he should’ve been instructing the remaining star destroyers to take action. He could be a leader, he inspired faith and action in his Knights. He knew how to command troops to contain insurgencies. 

Yet with his mind blank, no whispered voice of malice and promises following him every minute of the day, he found himself in his former master’s quarters. Snoke taught him that possessions were the mark of greed and gluttony. His own room was limited to a small bed and a work console that he seldom used. A refresher that he couldn’t turn around in without banging both his elbows. Snoke’s quarters not only consisted of multiple rooms but were lavishly decorated. A foyer positioned between corridor and his quarters proper. A receiving room. A private separate lounge for entertaining important guests. A chamber that served as altar and an alcove, more adjoining room, that served as library and museum. Refresher that resembled a small spa. Kitchen the size of a small house. Bedroom including a bed large enough to comfortably sleep the runaways from Crait.

He would’ve trashed the majority of the monuments to power and the past but stilling his hand, items hovering in the air, poised for destruction, he gently positioned them into the corner of each respective room, reminding him to gather crates to store them in. Unnecessary as they were to him they looked valuable. Valuable enough that rich enough people would buy. Credits that could be used to reimburse the funds used on the reconstruction costs. He made his way through each room. The books and pieces in Snoke’s room of worship he’d look through when he had the mental patience. The kitchen was remarkably well-stocked and cared for. Food he had no taste for he threw out. 

The last room he’d yet to clean was the bedroom. As much as he didn’t want to keep the bed, not only the bed that Snoke slept in, but perhaps where the unknown voice that spoke to him in his childhood, feeding him lines and visions while he slept sleep, sent to him while Snoke slept. Nor could he help but compare it to the bed he slept in while on the Supremacy. One-eighth the size of the bed Snoke slept in he reasoned he deserved it. In scope of his powers and abilities he outgrew his bed long ago. He was the Supreme Leader. He was the larger than life figure the First Order needed.

A new mattress and bedsheets would do just fine.

Scoffing when he opened the wardrobe he riffled through the robes. While most of the garments were the gold that the man believed he deserved there were also splashes of red and purple, black and silver and white. These had no purpose for saving. Delighting in tossing them out with a flourish of his hand he burned them in midair, flames licking away in the air, fading well before hitting the floor. 

The bar of the wardrobe empty save for the hangers he started to toss out the slippers and boots that lined the bottom half. Back warming with the flames that ridded the footwear he started when his hands rapped on the hollow bottom. A second storage compartment. There was no latch and yet no indication of how to open it. Mental acuity and force triggering the hidden locks he slid out what turned out to be a deep drawer. 

Crimson silk was folded on top, doing nothing to conceal the shapes underneath it. Pulling the fabric back, a dramatic reveal fluttering over his thigh and to the ground, he cocked his head, reaching for the first item. Leather staved off the chill of metal but he pulled it out, chain sliding out to full length despite latched together, two metal loops that consisted the ends of the chain not slipping apart.

“Ren, you haven’t been answering my comms.”

He heard the two doors open before hearing Hux’s voice, clipped but lacking its normal indignation. “I’ve been cleaning out my new quarters.”

“I suppose you are entitled to taking his rooms along with his title.” Hux still didn’t sound happy about the self-chosen promotion. He never would be until he stole the title himself. Unfortunately for the General he wouldn’t get the opportunity. He would kill him before he had the chance. Brisk steps brought Hux into the bedroom. “But I will be happy to see everything gone.”

He glanced up to see Hux looking around the room, distaste curling at his lips. Shrugging his shoulder he gestured to the unseen waste that should’ve been behind him. No cinders or ash showed any indication of Snoke’s clothing choices. “Everything worth throwing out has been taken care of. Food waste is in a bag in the kitchen. I’ve kept items that have re-sell value. Counter the construction expenses.”

“I’ll request crates to be brought up. And I already know a few buyers who will be interested,” Hux commented, bringing his attention to him. 

When Hux’s gaze landed on the chain in his hand the tightly guarded safe that was Hux’s mind locked up under an audible clatter that sounded like blaster doors slamming shut.

The sound reverberating in his own mind, he purposely slid the chain in his hands, watching Hux’s lips sink together into a white unreadable line. 

“Curious that Snoke, who wore nothing but the finest and most luxurious fabrics in the whole galaxy, would have something so… utilitarian, barbaric even, in his wardrobe. A hidden drawer.” His gloves protected him from the cold heavy chain, the short but sharp prongs not piercing through the leather. 

“Interesting.” 

Watching Hux from the corner of his eye he withdrew a whip, the tail broad and long once it unfolded from itself. Lips and stance remained unmoved even though his eyes followed the tip of the tail to the floor. “I know Snoke didn’t keep any animals on board,” he commented, caressing the handle.

“The stench of unbathed Stormtroopers is bad enough. I can’t imagine what damages a real animal would cause.” Hux looked back up, arms adjusting minutely though not departing from hands unclasping behind his back. “You’ve been requested to make a full official address. Broadcast to bases and ships, to announce your promotion and reinforce the agenda for the First Order. You’ll need to contact the bureaucracy offices to schedule a date and time for synchronising with all our factions.”

The thought of making a speech had him shuddering, sneering while Hux radiated smugness. “Can’t you take care of that?” he asked, grip tightening.

“I’ll schedule your holo-call with the offices for tomorrow,” Hux offered before turning sharply from the room.

Despising politics as much as he had when he was younger, watching his mother ignore him for the senate, he slapped the handle firmly down to the floor. 

He heard the misstep at the doorway, felt the mental flinch.

Hux left his quarters faster than he anticipated. 

He looked over his shoulder again, gaze narrowed unseeingly. 

Glanced down to the whip and chain beside him. 

He pulled his gloves off quickly, laying them to the empty space to his left. 

Reaching back for the drawer and the remaining items he cleared his mind, his fingers grazed over the larger of the two leather items. 

_Straps cinched tighter around heaving ribs, hard enough that the leather left marks on the pale skin. The buckles mimicked the knobs of the spine, marked in several locations, more straps joining to the centre strap, all the way up to the tense neck._

When his fingers found a long chain a different image flooded him.

_Unhooking from the harness the chain reattached to the shorter chain, the collar circling the neck. A sharp tug had neck and head snapping back, beads of blood pooling from old bruises anew. A whine trickled at the edges of the memory, strict but unheard words forcing the sound to be swallowed back._

His free hand reached for the drawer, finding leather-

_Fingers dug in under the leather, adjusting the straps, around hollowed cheeks then again from nose down to jaw, until it was positioned perfectly, metal bit between teeth. Forcing the man to remain silent, aside from heavy breaths through flaring nostrils, despite the sound of leather striking flesh._

_A slipper-covered foot pressed down to his sacrum, digging in with weight positioned to ensure he sank to the floor, helpless – submitting._

_On all fours, head bent forward, red hair un-gelled and falling over damp face, tears and sweat, humiliation and pain, blood trickled from thighs and back._

_Radiant gold pressed closer and closer, brushing over bare skin, when the handle of the whip was pushed inside him, oil barely easing the way…_

He dropped the muzzle and harness, fingers recoiling. 

He should throw them away. 

And yet he still had things to learn from his former master. 

There were many ways to mould a rabid cur to his liking.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wish, you can follow me on [Tumblr](http://centurytwitch.tumblr.com).


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